


Return to Coda

by Last_Haven



Series: Love Is [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Challenge Response, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 11:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Last_Haven/pseuds/Last_Haven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For as long as any of her former colonies could remember, a piano sat in Britain’s parlor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return to Coda

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://usxuk.livejournal.com/profile)[**usxuk**](http://usxuk.livejournal.com/)'s Sweetheart Week. Prompt was 'Music of My Heart'. Beta-read by the lovely Ellarose C.

For as long as any of her former colonies could remember, a piano had sat in England's parlor. She kept pianos in many of her estates, including the homes she owned during their colonial days. The one that she left to India was a sleek, black concert grand piano, an extravagant gift to remind her former charge of older days. In Canada's house in Ontario sat a baby grand piano, a present from both England and France, the keys worn down from oft use. There was an upright piano in Australia's home, scoffed up from the casual abuse of day to day life; more than once America saw Australia smile at it as fond memories cropped up of climbing up into their guardian's lap to watch her tickle the keys.

The one England had left to America had been a bright, glossy upright piano as well. Unlike any of the other pianos England owned—even if they resided in her colonies' homes, very few tried to dispute that they were really hers—this piano was the loveliest one. It was a special custom creation, with delicate carvings of winding flowers and leaping animals on every flourish, the keys smooth and shining, and atop it was a vase always bursting with the best rose blooms America could grow in her garden. However, unlike all the others as well and despite its beauty, it sat dusty and unused. The reason was simple; unlike the others in England's empire, America could not play the piano. Oh, she tried so hard to learn, but not even the most patient of tutors could coax America's fingers into tapping out a tune.

It was tough for England to admit defeat, but in the end there was nothing to be done. That day after lunch, America started to trudge towards the parlor like a prisoner led to the gallows. She hadn't even made to the door before England sat her napkin down and called her back. "From now on," she began, pausing to gather strength and force the next words past her lips. "You will no longer be having piano lessons. Instead, I've decided that singing lessons would be more suitable for your… talents."

She expected America to perk up and cheer that she would never again have to face her dreaded lessons, or at the very least curiously question the change. What she did not expect was for the little girl to stare for a moment before bursting into tears on the spot. The tiny blonde sobbed wretchedly, curling her hands into fists, wrinkling up her skirts as she tossed back her head and wailed.

"America—what on earth—child, come here and stop that," she tried to order. America only half listened; the girl quickly flung her body into England's lap, but continued to weep into her guardian's skirts. Although utterly confused, England's heart went out to the little girl and she softened her tone. "Hush, little one— _shh._ Why on earth are you crying? Hush, love, hush."

It took several minutes and much shushing and coaxing before America quieted enough to explain her distress. "A-all the others get to play their pianos!"

England tamped down on the unhelpful urge to say 'yes, well, the others can play a tune rather than strangle it', and instead forced herself to find something kinder. "America, everyone has limitations, things that they cannot do. That's not a personal failing on their parts, and not being able to piano is one of yours. But you shouldn't let that get you down, dear girl."

America only sniffled. "But you said that when there's something you really want, you gotta struggle for it and to never give up."

Well. Damnit, England hated it when her colonies turned her words against her—something America was quite good at doing, actually. "I also say that you have to know when to pick your battles—don't waste your time doing something you can never accomplish. Besides, just because you aren't good at one thing, it doesn't mean you're not good at another—you're a wonderful singer, America! Don't you want to take lessons for that instead and get even better?"

Sniffing, America tried to wipe her running nose on her sleeve before England blanched and intercepted her with a handkerchief. "But what about evening practice?"

England blinked, pausing before gently dabbing at America's tears. "What about evening practice?"

America's little lips trembled in her most heart wrenching pout. "Does this mean you don't wanna practice with me anymore?"

In spite of every promise she made to herself that she would stop bending to America's whims, England nearly melted at that teary eyed expression on her little girl's sweet face. "Oh, oh—America, of course not. Only, this time, I'll be the one playing the piano and you can sing for me. Won't that be much more fun?"

Slowly, America's lips crept up in a smile until at last she nodded and laid her head back against her guardian's lap with a contented sigh.

Agreement made, England fondly recalled the many nights when she let America stay up too late as the girl sang like a nightingale for her while she played until her fingers cramped. The piano was a central part of England's visits to her charge, a part that she had thought both treasured in spite of everything that ended up coming between them. Like a keystone or support beam to the past, it felt like the world was crumbling around her once more when she returned to America's house to settle the negotiations in 1815 only to find the piano gone. If it weren't for her own diplomats, England would have throttled the American nation instead of separating the feuding twins like planned. Still, the absence nagged at her thoughts throughout the negotiations until she settled into her unhappy conclusion. While America blathered on with various excuses, she had mentioned the undeniable fact that America couldn't play the piano and it wasn't like others played it often enough to justify it taking up space.

(Truth: unlike the many other things America managed to shove into her storage room, the piano was simply too big and unwieldy to make it in without damaging it.)

(Another truth: America at first merely accepted the fact with a nod and sold the piano to a kind neighbor who had children and parties often. Later, however, when she studied the empty spot, she had to swipe away tears.)

While the excuse was certainly valid, part of England stung at the idea that maybe, had she visited more often, the piano might have seen enough use to justify keeping it.

(Truth: it would have.)

Even nearly two centuries later, after finally admitting that maybe they might be/just possibly/had always been and always would be in love with each other, the lonely spot still sent a sliver into England's heart each time she came over. Despite new furniture claiming the spot, it remained barren in England's opinion.

And yet, the music never seemed to stop once England and America reunited. At America's house, England found herself pulled into merry dances as America spun her about to songs on her stereo. When America abruptly dropped into England's home, the former empire would always find herself serenaded, whether she was sitting at her own piano, fingers flying over the keys, or lying in bed while America tapped out the beat against her collarbone.

Piano or not, for those precious moments, an old, half forgotten warmth bubbled up in her stomach and time slipped away. Young or old, superior or equal, accompanied or alone, the music pushed past barriers leaving them as it always had. Two happy nations, together once more.


End file.
